What You Leave Behind
by TdeAlba
Summary: Natalie goes to John's place to get the things she left there while they were together.


**Disclaimers:** I don't own them. I'm making no money. Don't sue.

**Author's note:** I posted this idea back in December when Manda sent out a request for one shot ideas and she never used it. It's been cycling around in my brain ever since so I decided to gank it back (feel free to write your own spin Manda if you ever so desire, you still have rights). Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

This was taking longer than expected, partly because the room was trashed and partly because she was having a hard time keeping her mind focused on her task. Because if she let herself think at all her mind always wandered in the same direction. Because this room held too many memories and too many of them were good. 

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if they hadn't been happy here. Oh there had always been problems running in their lives through those months, more than she knew it turned out, but they'd always seemed to exist outside of this room. Maybe if she hadn't woken up so many mornings tangled in those rumpled sheets and felt so foolishly safe. Maybe if he hadn't always known just how to touch her. If he hadn't always known when to listen and when to just hold her. If he hadn't always seemed to know just what she needed…

Emphasis on the "seemed." That was the problem after all, wasn't it? That he decided what she needed instead of asking and got it so terribly wrong.

Don't think, she told herself. Don't look. Don't see that slot machine in the corner and remember all it represents. Don't remember that file he tried to hand you that night. Don't lose yourself in the memory of his kisses…

She fished her hairbrush out from under a pile of clothes. In all this mess would he even notice her stuff was gone?

Don't think, she reminded herself. She needed to hurry if she wanted to get out of there before he got back.

Get out of there. As if it were that easy. That's all she wanted was to get out of that room. To get the memory of that place out of her body. To stop waking up in the mornings thinking she was there. They hadn't even been together that long, why had she let herself get drawn into this space so completely. Drawn into _him_ so completely. Maybe she was lying to herself. She could take all of her stuff back, but part of her might be stuck in this room forever.

And as that realization hit her she froze hearing the door knob turn. The door swung open and there he was looking just as sexy as he always had. She watched his expression change quickly from surprise to confusion to deep longing. Don't pay attention, she told herself, don't get drawn in. Don't feel sorry for him, he deserves a lot worse.

"Natalie?" he asked curiously.

"Um, hi," was all she could stammer.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She motioned to the bags in her arms. "I came by to pick up a few things I left behind. Sorry. Roxy let me in. I wanted to be gone before you got back." Mentally she smacked her forehead. Of course she hadn't wanted him to catch her here, otherwise she would have just come by at a time he was there and demanded her stuff back. She didn't want to be caught. Did she?

He nodded. "They sent me home early." The statement hung in the air between them; they both knew that was bad news. They both knew he hadn't been sent home because he was tired or had nothing to do or extra leave time saved up. He'd been sent home because the downward spiral he was on had finally swept him so out of control he couldn't even do his job right.

He'd known someone was in the room before he opened the door. Not only would he never leave his door unlocked but he could hear someone moving around inside. Still he hadn't hesitated opening the door.

Had he somehow sensed that it was Natalie and not a burglar or did he just not care anymore? Was there a part of him hoping that when he opened the door someone would just shoot him and get it over with? And would that have been worse than seeing her standing there, shopping bags in her arms and a look of panic on her face? Even now she looked afraid. Of what? Of him? No, he couldn't think that because he couldn't take that. He could handle the whole town thinking he was losing his mind but he couldn't handle Natalie being afraid of him.

She was still frozen, staring at him, not saying anything. So finally he spoke. "Anything I can help you find?"

She looked around. "No, I think I got most of it. I thought I'd left some shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom but I didn't see it. Did you move it?"

"I'm sorry," he stammered, "I ran out and I kept forgetting to go to the store so I used it."

"Oh," she said, "Well that's okay, I mean…" Half a smile played for just a moment on her lips. Those lips that he'd kissed so many times. But not enough. Damn she looked beautiful today. Of its own accord his mind wandered to the other times he'd come into his room to find her waiting. They'd all ended quite differently. "It's just… it's designed to brighten red highlight so…" she looked up at him with a hit of amusement.

He dropped his chin and let himself smile just a little. "So that must be why everyone's been complimenting my color," he said.

"Yeah," she nodded as the last traces of her sad smile faded from her face, "well I guess that's everything then."

"Okay," he said, noticing she hadn't made any effort to move to the door. This was his cue to say something, wasn't it? A magical something that would make her stay. To tell her how much he needed her, how much he… could he even _think_ the phrase 'loved her'? That priest that night had told him that he did. But it didn't matter. Even if he did, even if he could say it, she probably wouldn't stay.

And she shouldn't stay. Because she deserved better. Because Crosby was right—he was dangerous. He'd damaged her life so many times in so many ways. He'd broken Evangeline's heart no matter how hard he tried to keep her heart away from him. He'd gotten Caitlyn killed. And if Natalie took him back now he would only destroy her all over again.

"All right," she said with a shrug walking past him. Within inches of him. Close enough that he could tell she'd bought another bottle of the same shampoo. But just far enough away that their shoulders didn't brush. He could have reached out, touched her. Would she have let him or recoiled or slapped him? And what did he want her to do?

"Natalie!" he called as she reached the door.

"Yeah?" she asked. There was a hint of eagerness in her voice. As though she actually wanted to hear what he had to say.

He turned slowly to look at her. This was it. The last chance to tell her. Tell her that the things she'd left behind in this room wouldn't fit in a grocery bag. She couldn't take them back. And if she couldn't stay he wished she'd just take all of that with her. Because using her shampoo smelled too much like making love to her. Because he couldn't bear to wash his sheets and remove the last vestiges of her scent. Because he'd found a strand of her hair on the couch the night before and sat there for ages, wrapping it around his finger and wanting to wrap his arms around her.

"If I find anything else," he said in a voice a little more hoarse than usual, "I'll call you. Or I can just bring it to you at work."

She nodded. She almost looked disappointed. Her eyes glistened a little more than usual. "Thanks," she said softly. And then she was gone. As gone as she would ever be.

Fin.


End file.
